


consequence

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aftermath, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Set during chapter 54
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After what that man said to him, Armin isn't sure he'll ever feel like himself again.





	consequence

**Author's Note:**

> chapters 53-54 came out years ago, but i think about them a lot. a Lot. so this just goes into the aftermath in more detail about how the events might have affected armin and how the others might have reacted, since there's so little of that in the manga.

All the way back to their hideout, Armin can’t stop thinking about it. 

_I used to be normal. But now look at me..._

He clenches his hands into tight fists and releases them again, over and over until his knuckles ache. His jaw is clamped shut, his tongue moving anxiously inside his mouth. It tastes vile. He’d do anything to get rid of the taste. The smell still lingers too - he can remember it clearly, the stench of sweat and ale and bad breath.

_You have to do something about this..._

Jean is watching him. He’s been watching him all this time, his brow twisted in concern. He looks exhausted. Armin doesn’t blame him, after the day they’ve had. More than anything he looks guilty and that _hurts_. None of this is his fault. None of it is Armin’s either, but that doesn’t stop him from blaming himself in his mind.

Mikasa keeps staring at him too. Every time they meet each other’s gaze she turns away quickly, like she can’t bear to look him in the eye. Maybe she feels responsible too. Armin feels sick knowing how much trouble he’s caused, and for what? Eren and Historia are safe for now but that won’t last. It’s only a matter of time. They’re just stalling.

_It’s all your fault..._

Armin squeezes his eyes shut tight, his face contorted like he’s in pain. He wants to scream. But even if he tried, he doesn’t think any sound would come out. He’s lost his voice. At some point in that warehouse he forgot how to speak and he doesn’t want to anymore. He looks down, grimaces at the sight of light pink fabric. He wants to tear the skirt off and throw it onto the road beneath them, wants the horses to trample over it until it’s dirty and torn. That’s how he feels.

“Armin.”

Jean’s voice startles him and he looks over at him with wide, tearful eyes. Jean smiles - something sad about it, but it’s sincere and not one of pity and Armin appreciates that - and then shuffles so that he’s sat closer to him.

“You did good,” Jean whispers. He almost sounds like he’s trying not to cry. “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

Armin feels like his heart has been ripped in two.

Jean lifts an arm and waits, like he’s asking for permission. Armin nods and he puts the arm around his shoulder, tentative in his movements but his grip is secure in a way that makes Armin feel safe for the first time since all this started.

The rest of the journey back is quiet. It feels like it goes on for hours, as they traverse winding roads and steep hills. When they finally arrive at the hideout, their captain looks at them one by one with cold gray eyes. His gaze lingers on Armin for the longest time.

“Rest,” he orders them, looking directly at Armin as he says it, and swiftly takes his leave.

They hurry inside to escape the rain that has started, but Armin feels uneasy about entering. Going inside means he has to face Eren. He doesn’t know if he’s ready for that yet, or if he ever will be. The thought of it makes him want to throw up. 

Upon hearing the rest of the squad enter, Eren rushes to the entrance to greet them, a wide grin on his face. Historia follows behind him, mellow and quiet. Eren’s smile fades when he sees their expressions, and he looks to Armin as if for assurance. That’s not something Armin can give him. He feels guilty but he can’t even look at Eren right now. Jean steps in front of him, protective.

“What happened?” Eren asks. Armin can’t bear to look up but he’s sure Eren’s still staring right at him.

“Come on,” says Mikasa, as she leads them through to another room. She sounds calm and stoic as ever but Armin can tell from her posture that she’s tense. She’s angry. For some reason, he feels guilty for that.

They all gather around the table, except Mikasa and Eren who linger in the hallway for a moment, whispering to each other. Armin sits down, his body trembling and arms folded. Historia slumps down into a seat beside him. She keeps glancing up at him in a way that tells Armin she must already have some inkling as to what’s happened. At least it wasn’t her. That’s the only good thing to come out of all of this.

Stood beside him, Jean smiles down at Armin with a warmth he feels like he doesn’t deserve. That’s what sets him off. Armin can’t control his tears, just closes his eyes and lets them fall, making choked sobbing sounds.

“I’m sorry-” he begins, faltering. His voice is too high, cracking under the strain of the emotions that have been brewing away inside him all this time. He sounds pathetic. They all must be thinking it, and that makes him cry harder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jean says gently, and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Armin doesn’t want to look at him; he knows all he’ll see is guilt plastered over his face, and he can’t handle that right now.

He can hear Sasha and Connie snickering quietly at him. No matter how hard they try to hide it, it’s obvious they’re struggling not to laugh. He really must look pathetic. Armin can’t exactly blame them; people have laughed at him his whole life for being weak and emotional, that’s nothing new. But it does sting a little coming from two of his closest comrades.

“Shut it, you two,” Jean snaps at them, which only makes them laugh more. He sighs. “Don’t mind them, Armin. They're both idiots.”

When Armin finally opens his eyes, he looks up and sees that Mikasa and Eren have joined them now. Mikasa watches Eren, as he gazes down at the key clutched in his hand with a distant, solemn expression. Like his mind is elsewhere, far away. He must know. She must have told him. There’s no other reason for him to look like that.

He looks over at Armin for the briefest moment, eyes shining. And then he’s storming out of the room before anyone can say anything. Mikasa turns on her heel but stops suddenly, like she was going to chase him but thought better of it. Armin hears a door slam and he flinches at the noise, whilst Mikasa pulls up a chair to sit opposite him. A tired sigh leaves her lips, so quiet it might not have been heard if the room hadn’t turned silent.

“He’s angry,” she says, like that wasn’t obvious, “He’s going to blame himself for this.”

“Well, it's his fault,” Jean cuts in. He sounds bitter, exhausted.

Mikasa glares at him then. The look in her dark eyes makes Armin shudder even though it isn’t directed at him.

“It isn’t,” she says through gritted teeth, “If anything it’s your fault.”

It seems like they’re about to rip each other’s throats out until Armin’s meek voice interrupts them. “It isn’t Jean’s fault,” he says, “And it isn’t Eren’s, or the commander’s, or anyone’s but mine.”

They all stare at him. All their eyes on him is too overwhelming. He bolts, runs out of the room as fast as his legs will carry him. Mikasa calls after him but doesn’t follow. Jean does. Armin hurries up the stairs to their sleeping quarters, and finds himself at a dead end. There’s nowhere else he can run to. He collapses against the wall and sobs, backed into a corner like when he was a child surrounded by bullies.

“Please don’t cry,” Jean begs him, “Please.”

He’s crying too now, Armin realizes, but he’s trying so hard not to. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, as he clutches his fist with his other hand and stares at Armin with light brown eyes that gleam with tears.

“What’s wrong with me, Jean?” Armin asks, desperate and frantic, “Why can’t I get him out of my head?”

Jean approaches him and pulls him into a tight hug. Armin doesn’t protest it, just lets himself be held and sobs into his friend’s shirt. He realizes he’s still wearing Historia’s skirt. He feels dirty, awful. He wants to scrub his skin until it’s raw and bleeding. After what that man said to him, Armin isn't sure he'll ever feel like himself again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything,” Jean mumbles into his hair.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. It’s not okay, Armin. I… I sat there and let you suffer when you needed me the most and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Armin sniffles. He pulls away from the hug and wipes his eyes, looks up at Jean but avoids direct eye contact. “It was hardly a life or death situation,” he says, trying to rationalize things like he always does, “I’ll be fine, Jean. I’ve had worse.”

“But this is different,” Jean says. They both know he’s right.

Armin sighs, defeated. There’s no point pretending. “Pain I can deal with but… _This_? I feel revolting, Jean. I can still feel his breath on my skin, his… His hands…”

“Don’t think about it,” Jean says quickly, strong hands steadying Armin by his shoulders as he starts to hyperventilate, “Breathe, Armin. Come on. Focus on me.”

He has to grab onto Jean’s shirt to stop himself from stumbling. He’s shaking so much and all he can think about is that man, that vile monster of a man. The way he whispered close to Armin’s ear, breath hot against his neck. How one of his fat hands fondled Armin’s chest whilst the other had a firm grip on his chin, how he twisted the boy’s head up to get a better look at him. He told Armin he was such a pretty girl, said he wanted to hear his pretty voice, wanted to hear him moan. The sound of his voice echoing in his ears, over and over again, makes Armin want to die.

Everything is a blur for a while, just panic. Armin can’t breathe and he doesn’t want to. He wants it to stop, wants to pass out and never wake up if it means he’ll be free of feeling like this. Eventually he starts to come to his senses again, as Jean reassures him with words he can’t quite make out. He looks up and sees Eren stood there too, and that’s all Armin can focus on. He’s staring down at him, his expression unreadable.

When Armin has started to calm down, enough that his breaths are more regular now, Eren takes a step forward. “Jean, can you give us a moment?”

Jean seems hesitant, overprotective. But he obeys the request and leaves the two alone.

Armin is on the floor now - he must have collapsed at some point - so Eren sits down beside him. He sits with his legs stretched out, whilst Armin’s own legs are tucked tightly to his chest, arms wrapped around them. Eren stays quiet for the longest time, so long that Armin thinks he might never speak at all until he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Armin shakes his head quickly, because Eren has no reason to be and he can’t bear to hear anyone else say that to him. “Don’t,” he pleads.

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation then, “Can I touch you?”

Armin blinks. He stares at Eren, eyes wide, then shakes his head.

“So you’ll let Jean touch you but not me?” Eren asks, sounding more upset than jealous.

“I’m sorry, Eren, I… I can’t. I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

“Armin…”

It makes him feel awful because he knows Eren’s right, that there’s no real reason for him to be afraid of his best friend touching him. But he is. He doesn’t want Eren to touch him. He feels filthy, like Eren will get dirty too if he comes too close. It’s different with Jean because Jean was _there_ , but the thought of being touched by anyone else is horrifying to Armin. Even Eren. Especially Eren, because Armin cares about him so much, more than anything. He has no idea why the idea of Eren holding him in his arms scares him so much when he craves it so badly too.

Eren looks sad, so sad. “I would never have let you go out there if I knew you’d get hurt so badly.”

“But I wasn't,” Armin says, “I’m not injured.”

“But you’re hurt in here,” Eren tells him, pointing to his heart, “And I would do anything to make you stop hurting. Anything. It kills me to see you so...”

“Broken,” Armin finishes the sentence for him.

“No,” Eren says firmly, “You aren’t broken.”

“I feel it.”

“But you aren’t. Trust me, Armin. Do you trust me?”

The answer is so obvious, but Armin replies anyway. “Of course I do.”

“Good. Then please believe me.”

They sit for a while without talking, until Armin gets the courage to move closer to his best friend. He leans his head against Eren’s shoulder, holds his hand out with the palm facing up. Eren takes it in his own and gives a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Is this okay?” Eren asks, even though it was Armin who initiated it.

Armin nods. “Yeah, but… Just this for now.”

“Alright.”

As much as he wants to jump into Eren’s arms and hug him, he can’t bring himself to. He feels too scared, too fragile. Even these gentle touches make his heart race and his hands shake. He feels safe beside Eren but so vulnerable too. He's so grateful for him, though, thankful that he has someone like Eren in his life who cares about him so deeply.

“Armin,” Eren utters his name, and the way he sounds it is so full of fondness that it makes Armin’s soul ache, “I love you, you know that right?”

Armin nods against his shoulder. “I know. I love you too.”

Eren exhales deeply, gives Armin’s hand another squeeze. “It’ll be alright. You’ll feel better. I promise.”

Armin wonders how he can possibly promise such a thing, but says nothing. He just sighs.

He really hopes Eren is right.


End file.
